Bittersweet Reunion
by xofirefly
Summary: Maggie Amell was never Hero of Ferelden. Instead, she was transferred to Kirkwall's Circle to continue her studies while Kinloch Hold was rebuilt, experiencing the horrors of the Gallows for herself. Years later and now a Senior Enchanter, Maggie finds herself at the Conclave when an explosion rocks Thedas, leaving her with an odd green, glowing mark on her hand.
1. Chapter 1

Hiya! Thanks so much for reading ^_^ It's my first fic so bear with me. If you have any suggestions I will be more than happy to add them in, or simply fangirl about anything/everything Cullen. Please be gentle.

Also, there is a slight rape trigger in this chapter, though I'll tag it when it comes around.

* * *

Magdalene Amell had been brushing her hair out before bed when she'd heard the first scream. Her head shot up, neck craned to the closed door with eyes narrowed before she tried to calm herself and turn back to her reflection. She'd just completed the Harrowing and though no one had mentioned side effects, she'd heard plenty of blood-curdling noises when she'd travelled through the Fade and they had sounded exactly like that. Her mismatched eyes, one blue and one green, noted her new pallor as she looked back to the mirror and hesitantly began brushing once more. Full lips pulled into a frown as she pinched at her cheeks, willing pink to spread to them once more. She'd been scared enough during the day to go to bed looking ill. Maggie heard another scream and she pursed her lips, determined to ignore the sounds around her. Suddenly the door slammed open and Liam, a young male mage, looked at her fearfully. His eyes quickly scanned the room and paid little attention to her before scurrying to the closet in the corner. "What are you doing?" she hissed, standing quickly. Men weren't supposed to be in the girl's dorms, though that rule was ignored more often than—

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking back to the door before hurriedly opening the closet. "There are demons out there and you're… what, brushing your hair? Hide, woman!"

A confused look overcame her face before true terror surfaced. Maker, the screams were… She dropped the brush quickly and moved to the still-closed door, placing an ear to the dark wood. She didn't hear anything and pushed it open, nearly running into an abomination. It looked down at her with its twisted face, one that looked frighteningly like her friend Anna, and opened its mouth to moan. It gave Maggie just enough time to startle into action, casting a winter spell that would allow her to move away from it. The mage wriggled her way between the monster and the door with a gulp before joining the other mages running toward the lower levels of the Circle. There were few of them moving toward the stairs and even less when Maggie moved to shut the doors against the impending attack. It was she and another female mage, Anais, who managed to shut the door. Anais, the older mage, cast a barrier against the door hoping it would impede the abominations. They continued to move quickly until they came to a corridor that held Wynne and a few of the children who had just arrived at the Circle days prior. "What's happening?" Wynne asked quietly, moving to Maggie as Anais moved to tend to the children.

"I do not know," Maggie said, pounding emanating from where they had cast the barrier. "There are abominations everywhere, I was in my room and –"

Wynne held up a hand. "Say no more." She ushered the children into the room, shooting a worried glance at Maggie. Wynne gave her a small nod and said, "Help me place the barrier." Between the three mages they were able to cast a strong barrier, but it held an otherworldly feel to it. Maggie cast a glance to the eldest mage who looked a bit pale but otherwise relatively normal. "It will hold," Wynne said, mistaking the concern in Amell's eyes. It was days before the doors behind them opened

* * *

She bends with a poultice in one hand and a potion in the other, her eyes searching the man below for wounds. There'd been more than a few templars injured, and of those many had already succumbed to their wounds. Those who were unconscious had no choice if they wanted help, but when they woke… She'd been strangled twice already and they'd refused what little help she could give them. She'd gone to Wynne and complained, saying that it was unfair that they refused such treatment, but the older mage assured her that it was their right. Even the white-haired woman had been refused for treatment, and she was the Circle matriarch. When she ran out of templars who either died or screamed at her, she sat about clearing rumble and bodies from the halls.

Every still body with dead, open eyes caused her pause. She was thankful when it was not a friend, but realized that the alternative meant they could have succumbed to becoming an abomination. Every time it took her a moment to catch her breath before she dragged her brothers and sisters to the makeshift pyre outside Kinloch Hold. If not for the group of warriors that had come through, all would have been lost to the Circle. She'd been present for Ser Cullen's outburst, for his request to kill any remaining mages in the tower, and – by the Gods – he'd looked straight at her as he said it. Her chin had trembled but she held her head even higher in a look of defiance. He was no longer the same man. Whatever he had experienced had broken him beyond repair and he no longer wanted to protect her, but destroy her. She still remembered the conversation they'd had after her Harrowing, how she'd flirted with him enough to make him run away like a frightened child. Now the analogy was even more real. He looked at her with utter distaste and contempt and she was powerless to escape it.

When templars came from the Kirkwall Circle to lend them aid, Maggie begged to leave. Her studies had all but halted and she wanted nothing more than to leave this destruction behind. Wynne was gone and there was no one else she knew apart from the remaining templars, and they all had the same feral look in their eyes. Greagoir was hesitant to accept the proposition, but the Kirkwall templars had raked their eyes over her and encouraged it. She should have known then.

A few other 'lucky' mages were also transferred to the Free Marches. Maggie tried to liken it to coming home; after all, her mother had always said she was from here, that she had been nobility! Surely that would go some ways, even in the new Circle. She should have known when she walked into the Gallows and all she could hear were screams of pain and cries of oppression. It took her a bit to acclimate to her new home. She had come from Ferelden feisty and headstrong, flirtatious and carefree. Even a few beatings over offenses so small as speaking to other mages didn't cull the girl's spirit. When it was clear she wished to bring a semblance of happiness to those at Kinloch Hold, she was subjected to an isolation cell in the basement. Her eyes finally adjusted to the low light and she moved to the iron bars, clasping them with both hands.

"Hello?" she called out, her odd eyes searching the cell opposite her. She squinted and was sure she could see a body curled on the floor and began grinning. While she wasn't in the position to make friends – none of them were, as it were – a bit of hope built in her. She wasn't sure why the templars would call this an isolation cell if there were others there, but they all refused to speak. Days went by with only a mouthful of water at the time and Maggie could feel her robes loosen almost daily. Occasionally she'd hear a door open and two templars would clank into the basement only to drag a limp, smelly body from the area. She don't know what possessed her, but she began to scream. Scream for the days she hadn't spoken to anyone and at the stupid girl who had willingly marched into this Circle.

*&* TRIGGER *&*

The door didn't close and she heard a soft thump before she heard buckles unfastening and metal being laid on the ground. Her brows furrowed and she moved back from the bars. Maggie's legs trembled as she pressed against the furthest wall, knowing the only thing that had kept her solidly up was leaning against the cell door. It opened with a slow creak and the two, now-unarmored men moved toward her. "You're not so high and mighty now, little bird." One of the men leered at her and there was just enough light in the room to see a smile on his face before he approached, roughly taking her bony chin between his fingers and angling her face up. "Pretty little thing, innit she?" the man asked his companion, who chuckled slightly.

"Won't be after we're done with her," the other templar said, a man that appeared much younger than his companion. "Hold her." Maker, did she scream. They'd flipped her into the cold dirt and all she could taste was dirt and bile. It wasn't long after that all her cries, those of pain and shame, ceased. She laid on the floor while they spoke between each other, then hoisted her into the air. They crudely grabbed at her before hiking her robes back to her ankles and pushing her back into the Circle.

*&* END TRIGGER *&*

"I thought I heard something—" His hair was blonder, his face sharper, but she'd know his voice from anywhere. Her gaze was nearly as lifeless as those she'd pulled from Kinloch Hold weeks ago but she saw him scan her body, take in the tear-stained, dirt covered cheeks and the small tears now in her robes. You did, she thought with a sick sense of satisfaction, you heard everything. She saw a flicker of pity move through his hazel eyes before he stood a bit straighter and gave a curt nod to his brothers who held the mage up. "I suggest you acquire new robes, mage," he snarled before abruptly turning on his heel.

Years later, when Kinloch Hold contacted the Kirkwall Circle to request the presence of the mages who had been sent away, Magdalene felt no sense of happiness or joy, neither regret or remorse. On the contrary, she felt nothing.

Wynne stood on the steps of the Ferelden Circle with arms crossed and brows furrowed. Only three of the seven mages they'd sent to Kirkwall had returned. Initially she'd thought they'd kept the most promising studies with them, but when she recognized Maggie she knew that wasn't the case. The girl had been an exceptional healer and gifted in herbalism and defense magic. Instead, Kirkwall had sent back corpses. The two women and one man said nothing for weeks, not even to each other, and Wynne had never regretted leaving the Circle so much in her life.

* * *

"We're taking heavy losses throughout our ranks," Cullen screamed as Cassandra and the others approached. Behind her was a woman holding a staff and he could instantly feel it, the magic that poured out of this newcomer. It was no doubt the prisoner from the Temple of Sacred Ashes and Cullen cursed inwardly at himself. As if it hadn't been hard enough to place his prejudices behind him. "You've closed the Rifts?" he asked, moving toward the Seeker.

"Not me," the Nevarran said with a slight smirk as she stepped aside. "Her."

His hazel eyes met hers and his heart began beating even harder against his chest. She was even prettier than the last… than the last… He gulped for air as if he'dforgotten how to breathe. He didn't need these flashbacks, to seeing her small, skeletal frame dragged from the isolation cells or Brenton's and Cason's leering grins as they held her up. No. It couldn't be her; a sister, perhaps. He quickly convinced himself that it was a simple coincidence before gathering himself. "I hope what they say about you is true. We've lost a lot of good people getting you here."

The woman quirked a brow and crossed her arms with an amused look, but said nothing. Satisfied this woman was not the one he'd thought – for he surely would have earned an insult with his last words – he relaxed slightly and offered her a smile. She cocked her head, unnerving eyes staring at him before she strode towards him, the swing of her hips drawing his attention despite the chaos around them. "I'm sorry," the woman said, a familiar voice escaping her full lips, "I thought I heard something."


	2. Chapter 2

Cullen watched over her as she slept. He wasn't the only one; the few mages already at Haven had little training in healing, but they did as much as they can. The bright green mark on the mage's hand shines of its own accord and Amell grimaced each time. He took turns with Leliana and Cassandra to guard her, knowing that her new title, 'Herald of Andraste', would probably cause multiple attempts on her life. Occasionally the woman moaned in pain and it became more frequent on the third day. Cullen ran a hand over his face and sighed before a knock came at the door. He was easily startled and took a moment to calm himself. He was more easily everything since he'd quit lyrium: more easily agitated, more easily annoyed… more easily pulled into memories of his past. He stood from his post and opened the heavy wooden door, coming face to face with Cassandra. "Josephine has collected enough information on her to debrief us." Cullen often found the woman's straight-forwardness refreshing, but they weren't the words he wished to hear. "How is she?" the Seeker asked more softly, her sharp brown eyes moving around his broad shoulders to land on the mage, still unconscious on the bed.

"The same," he said, and was ashamed to feel a twinge of relief. The longer she remained asleep was one more moment he didn't have to worry about explaining his previous actions to his companions. The ex-templar knew Leliana had thoroughly vetted him and, Andraste bless her, she hadn't said a word. Of course, the Nightingale had done many an unsavory thing in her time and knew what things were better left in the past. Cullen gave one last look to the mage before turning and following Cassandra to the Chantry, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The Chantry was bustling, as it normally was. Thankfully, Haven had attracted a number of devout followers including some Lay Sisters from Southern Ferelden and even some templars who had broken away from the order as he had done. At the end of the building was a small room Josephine had set up, including a map of Thedas as well as a small library of history books.

"We're ready to begin, then?" Josephine asked as the two warriors entered, shutting the door quietly behind them. She offered an unsure smile to Cullen, who gave her an affirmative nod, and she moved back to Leliana and looked down at her clipboard. He supposed there was no need to ask after the Herald; after all, Leliana's scouts were in and out of the cabin nearly nonstop and no doubt quickly reported back to the redhead, who then informed Josephine. Without any preamble, the Antivan drew a finger over her papers and sighed. "Magdalene Amell. Born 9:14 Dragon in Kirkwall. Her birth disgraced the Amell noble line when her magic surfaced. Her mother – father unknown – fled to Ferelden for a new start, but eventually the child was turned to Kinloch Hold at the age of nine." The ambassador's eyes furrowed as she shot an unsure look to Cullen. "After the fall of the Ferelden Circle, Magdalene was transferred to Kirkwall's Circle to continue her studies while the Ferelden Hold was rebuilt. When studies at her home Circle resumed, she returned to the south and eventually rose in the ranks to become Senior Enchanter."

"And how did she manage to garner an invitation to the Conclave?" Cassandra asked, her eyes narrowing as they moved between the two women in front of her.

"I travelled with former Senior Enchanter Wynne of the Ferelden Circle for some time. She spoke of Amell positively, though not often. Even as an apprentice she showed promise." Leliana's clear blue gaze turned up to meet Cullen's. "As it would seem, Magdalene was attending the Conclave in order to promote a universal reform of the mage Circles of Thedas… against Grand Enchanter Fiona's advice to do away with the Circles altogether." At this, Cullen's hazel eyes widened in surprise. He certainly hadn't expected Maggie to want to keep the Circles intact. "The mages of Ferelden elected her ambassador for their cause."

"What good that did," a soft, musical voice said from behind them. Cullen and Cassandra turned to see the Herald closing the door behind her, an amused smirk on her face that didn't reach her mismatched eyes. "Perhaps, since you know all about me, we can exchange some information."

Josephine offered her a tired smile. "It is nice to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

The mage ran a hand through her messy black hair and sighed. "Like I was run over by a stampede of Avaar." And, Maker, did she look it. There weren't much changes in her appearance since Cullen had left her side; she was still pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and had a bit more gauntness to her face. He was unsure if he was supposed to reassure her she looked fine, allow his eyes to linger, avert them, or turn away completely. His calloused fingertips once more felt for the sword hilt at his side, an action which didn't seem to escape Amell's eyes. Her gaze travelled briefly to his waist and he could see her chest freeze, panic in her eyes that willed her to breathe. He'd seen that look more times than he could count but he no longer took pleasure in it. Her gaze averted and she moved closer to the war table, sidling beside Cassandra. She was still tense, that much was evident in her posture, but her eyes raised to the Antivan before softening slightly. "But thank you." Her thin fingers reached out to trail a frayed edge of the map below her before looking up with a decidedly more determined look. "What's our next plan of attack?"

* * *

Before anyone could answer, the door to the back room flung open and Chancellor Roderick entered. "Chain her," he said as templars entered behind. He pointed to her before continuing. "I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial." Maggie's mouth went dry and she froze, unsure what to do. Her first thought was to run; she didn't want to fight, but she would freeze the bastards to the floor if it gave her at least one more moment's peace. But the sound of Cassandra's voice dragged her from her panic and Maggie attempted to remind herself she was no longer in a Circle.

"Disregard that, and leave us," the Nevarran said calmly, her pretty brown eyes focused on the Chancellor. Much to Maggie's surprise, the templars she's turned to look at place a hand over their chest and move away. Her gaze moved to Cullen in shock, wondering why he – too – hadn't 'secured' her, and his eyes averted from her quickly. She swore she saw shame and guilt linger in his honey colored eyes. The mage grinned to herself and Roderick seemed none too pleased with the expression.

"You walk a dangerous line, Seeker."

"The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it," Cassandra said firmly, her jaw clenching as she took a few steps toward the Chantry man.

Rage began to boil in Maggie's chest as Roderick looked between them disdainfully. "So I'm still a suspect, even after what we just did?" she asked, a hard edge in her voice. As it seemed, everyone except her was a suspect.

Minutes later, when the Chancellor had moved from the room, the Inquisition was born. And hours later, as flags, banners, and notices were still being placed around Haven, Maggie found herself back in the Chantry walking along Cassandra. "Does it trouble you?" the woman asked, looking to the mage's hand and then up.

Maggie gave her a small smile. There was little need in troubling anyone at the moment, but every time she closed a Rift the pain in her pain increased. "tt's fine," she said, looking back to Cassandra. She didn't wish to dwell on her left hand or the mark that had been left. Thankfully it wasn't glowing but it was still hard to avoid the glances and gazes of those in Haven. The Senior Enchanter had been used to exactly the opposite: glances in the opposite direction, gazes that were vacant. Now, though, most of the inhabitants of the small Ferelden village looked at her as if she was their savior. She felt anything but, and for a moment wished she'd perished in the Conclave with the others. She hadn't been born to manage others and had never wished for that life. Now it seemed unescapable. Cassandra stopped talking for a moment and Maggie felt guilty about zoning out; even the advisors, apart from Cullen no doubt, seemed to believe she was the key to solving everything. It was even more apparent when the Seeker threw open the back door once more.

"May I present Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat?" she continued, motioning to the kind Antivan woman Maggie had met earlier. "And of course you know Sister Leliana," the Seeker continued, giving the mage a coy glance.

"My position here involves a degree of…"

"She is our spymaster."

"Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra," the redhead returned, a smirk playing on her lips.

"And may I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces." Maggie's eyes moved to the man and hardened. He didn't look like the same man she'd seen so many years ago, but that meant nothing. He hadn't reached out to her or spoken to her apart from their brief interaction on the battlefield. He'd looked as struck as she'd felt when she'd first seen him. He was the last person she'd thought to find so far away from a Circle.

"Such as they are. We lost many solders in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through." His eyes rose to meet Maggie's before turning to Cassandra's, regret filling both their expressions.

She supposed that there was never a good way to lose lives and tried to push back the untoward comments about how there would be less remorse if there were mages. She bit her cheek and tasted the wanted coppery bitterness in order to keep her tongue from wagging. There was little need to bring up their previous relationship in front of the others, even though they all seemed nearly oblivious of the fact. Perhaps he hadn't told them they had once been acquaintances. "That's an impressive bunch of titles," Maggie said, anger fading as she looked away from the others.

"I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good," Cassandra said, looking back to the mage. Maggie's brows furrowed slightly; had she? It must have been when she was wallowing in self-pity.

"Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help," Leliana said, looking to the Seeker with certainty. Immediately Maggie liked the woman. She seemed familiar and seemed to be capable, at least for a laysister… not that she looked like one. Nonetheless, the Senior Enchanter was happy that someone was able to look past the mistakes of a few mages to find they were capable of others things apart from possession.

"And I still disagree. The templars could serve just as well."

"We need power, Commander," Cassandra said, shaking her head as if they'd had this conversation over and over. "Enough magic poured into that mark—"

"Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so—"

"Pure speculaton," Leliana interrupted matter-of-factly, hands behind her back.

"I was a templar. I know what they're capable of." Maggie scoffed under her breath at that comment. There were two people in the room who knew what templars were capable of, and she certainly didn't think it was something to brag about. Cullen shot her a hard look, studying her a moment before his gaze softened slightly. She wondered if he had thought about her any at all since she'd transferred back to Kinloch Hold. Probably not; he wasn't much changed, it seemed.

"Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet," Josephine said, an impatient tone underlying her words. Maggie looked over to her, realizing that fighting about which group would serve them better was a moot point. She wasn't even sure how other mages would be able to help them, but she'd already decided that – if her opinion would be asked – she would side with recruiting the mages of Thedas. "The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you, specifically."

"That didn't take long," Maggie replied with a slight smirk.

"Shouldn't they be busy arguing over who's going to become Divine?" Cullen asked, ignoring her comment completely.

"Some are calling you – a mage – the 'Herald of Andraste'. That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you."

"Chancellor Roderick's doing, no doubt," Cassandra said unhappily, looking over to the mage.

"It limits our options. Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question."

"Just how am I the 'Herald of Andraste'?" Maggie asked, her nose drawing up in disgust. She wasn't even Andrastian and the title felt offensive, even to her. Surely they could have come up with a better title, or preferably forgone one at all. As Josephine had said, being a mage had leant her little credibility and Fereldens were hardly accepting regarding mages after Kirkwall.

"People saw what you did at the temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing," Cassandra explained. "They have also heard about the woman seen in the Rift when he first found you. They believe that was Andraste."

"Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading –" Leliana began, looking from the Seeker to Maggie.

"Which we have not."

"The point is, everyone is talking about you."

"It's quite the title, isn't it?" Cullen asked genially, forcing a friendly smile on his lips. "How do you feel about that?"

Maggie's brows furrowed once more, confused at the man's actions. He'd hardly been able to speak in coherent sentences before Kinloch Hold had fallen, and even then he hadn't managed a single word towards her. Now he seemed confident and relaxed, with his hands resting idly on the hilt of his sword once more. Initially she'd thought it a nervous gesture but realized it had become just a habit. She looked away for a moment, trying to convince himself he wasn't trying to be nice. "It's… a little unsettling," she replied, sounding a bit more genuine and friendlier than she'd intended.

"I'm sure the Chantry would agree," he said with a small smirk.

Thankfully, it seemed that there was someone in the Chantry who wished to speak to them. Leliana mentioned a Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands and others around her that may be willing to help and Maggie assured them that she would leave in the morning. It would be a few days journey to Giselle's location, even in the best weather, but she was happy to get away from Haven for a while if not only to clear her head. The group said their goodbyes for the night and promised Maggie they wouldn't allow her to do all the work alone before the mage waved at them and exited the Chantry. She stood beside the stone building for a few moments, looking up at the swirling, electric green mass in the sky before she closed her eyes and sighed. A creak at the door piqued her interest and she opened one eye to glance at who had exited. Despite having said they were going to rest for the night, the other four advisors had stayed in the small room. A flash of light illuminated pieces of armor and Maggie sighed, closing her eyes briefly before giving a nod to the man and moving away.

"Mags," Cullen called from behind her, his footsteps quickening in the freshly-fallen snow. His gloved hand caught her upper arm and she flinched away from him for more reasons than one.

"Senior Enchanter," she corrected him, her face contorting into an ugly expression.

He pursed his lips, as if regretting saying anything at all, before he retracted his hand. "I wanted to say that I…" Cullen cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I am pleased to see you've recovered."

"From the Breach or from Kirkwall?" she bit back. Maggie almost regretted her words when she saw his face fall, but he quickly recovered and shielded his emotions.

His eyes narrowed as they looked down at her and he shifted his weight to his other foot. "Both." He paused for a moment and sighed once more. "I wanted to apologize. For everything." At this, Maggie took another step back but quirked an eyebrow. "I was… I should not have been so calloused. I am sorry, Maggie. You'll never know –"

The Commander's words were too much for her. "No, I won't," she snapped. "We both have longs days ahead of us, Ser Cullen." His title made him wince slightly but she continued, turning on her heel to move to her cabin. She closed the door and leaned against it, sliding down to the floor as tears gathered in her eyes. She stayed there until her gaze dulled and reflected only the flames of the dying fire before slipping into bed, willing morning to never come.


End file.
